


heart-shaped bruises

by Anonymous



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Handcuffs, M/M, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 13:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15365247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: familiar to millions 2000





	heart-shaped bruises

You can’t decide if you want to get home as quick as humanly possible and drink yourself into oblivion or smack his stupid slobbering face until his nose spurts blood.

He spouts some other godawful rubbish to which the crowd cheers. You roll your eyes. These people will really soak up any shit that spills from his stupid mouth. Traces of a suspicious white substance coating the corners, you notice on further inspection. 

You snap out of your haze and immediately remember where you’re standing, the dread reflooding your stomach. One more song you tell yourself.

Finally, the heavy thuds of Rock ‘n’ Roll Star’s finale drag to a much needed close and you make your exit. You’re dripping with sweat, your fitted t shirt clinging to your skin. The t shirt Liam had convinced you made you look “delectable”. You’d chosen to ignore the fact that he’d decided to growth his vocabulary through cooking shows and instead gave his bottom lip a nibble. 

Speak of the devil. His hot breath burns the back of your neck already prickling with sweat and anger. 

He begins to drawl, spew out some more nonsense that’ll no doubt be demeaning or entirely inappropriate. Only to cut him short and save you both some breath, you smack him full across the face. The satisfying crunch of bruised bones meets your ears and you can’t help but smirk. Serves you right, you little shit. 

Silence follows. You’ve rendered the gobshite speechless and whilst you’ve got enough words to say to fill a dictionary, you can’t determine what will come spilling out if you open your mouth. It’s better to wait for the monkey to make the first move. 

Slowly, Liam reaches a hand to the dribble of blood from his nostril, sucks on his blood covered finger and fixes you with an indignant stare.  
“Cunt,” he grunts.  
“Dickhead.” you retaliate double quick. 

The silence continues and you swear the world is just you and him, surrounded in this bubble of frustration and personal disasters and shit. Because life isn’t going well for either of you right now. Maybe you felt sympathetic when he was sitting with his head in your lap babbling about wives and divorce cases and how very addictive that lovely haze of alcohol is but now, after broadcasting it to a stadium and the entire world, you’ve never hated him more.

“That was the worst two hours of my life.” you tell him. Calculated, precise. In control.  
He shrugs. Simple, unhelpful. Typical.  
“You’re a disgrace. A fucking disgrace.” he’s yet to look wounded, even with the darkening mark on his right cheek. You curse yourself for losing your nerve. Now more than ever, Liam deserves any bad word you could give him. 

But everything has drained out of you. What’s just happened hits you again like Liam’s stupid fucking wedding ring when he tossed it across your bedroom. You turn to leave, resolving never to speak to Liam again. At least not this side of the decade. 

“Is that it?” You can hear the triumph in his slurring and it’s enough to reignite the anger.  
“What the fuck do you need me to say that you haven’t already said yourself to millions of people, you cu-“  
The bastard cuts you off with a pair of lips behind your ear, biting gently, licking carefully.  
“Liam. If you think you can just do that after that.”  
But of course he thinks he can do that after that. He’s Liam fucking Gallagher. 

“You’re having a go but I know how much you loved me kissing you out there,” he mutters, tongue sweeping gracefully along your ear. Doesn’t even seem drunk now, unbelievable you think.  
“Didn’t like any of it. I told you not to go there in public again. This isn’t 1997.”  
“Nah. Had a wife then didn’t I.” It’s wry, a little more than Liam usually is and it seems to sober you both up.  
“Yeah and who’s fucking fault is that.”  
The shrug is back. Actions speak louder than words is Liam’s motto.  
“Liam.”  
You drag him back by his hair, making sure to hold the strands far tighter than necessary, yanking a little just to hear the delightful whine it evokes.  
“If we’re doing this, you’re gonna pay.”  
He smirks again, lazy and smug.  
“You’ve got it.”

Back in his hotel room, you’re sat on the bed fully clothed watching as he strips. He’s paler than usual, bonier. Liam and Patsy, they were a disaster from the start but the effects of their divorce is evident in everything he is right now. Desperate and dirty. 

The mattress sinks as he sits besides you.  
“I think you need to learn to fucking behave yourself.”  
You’re still not entirely where Liam is, hot and ready. You’re still angry and as much as Liam willing to take whatever you give him turns you on, the cold anger of earlier hasn’t disappeared.  
“You gonna do anything? Frigid.” He teases, even jabbing you a couple of times in the arm before his hand trails lower and rubs against you.  
“No touching.”  
He pouts. 

“What d’you think you deserve then? Some smacking would teach you, no? Tied up.” His eyes gleam a little, cock hardening and you smirk. He’s so easy to play.  
“No coming?” And you’re very good at playing.  
As the objections begin, the whines and whinging (seriously Noel what’s the point in fucking doing this if I can’t come), you cuff his wrists to the bedposts with the stupid fucking sex shop handcuffs he keeps in his bag just for the uproar they cause amongst the lads and airport security if they catch wind of it. That backfired, didn’t it.

Although you’ve seen Liam like this before, legs spread wide like a whore, mouth hanging open so his bottom lip glistens with saliva, it goes straight to your cock. There’s something so satisfying about having your little brother under your complete control. His trust in you, after everything, is sickening but you tell yourself it’s what you deserve after the ordeal he’s put you through. 

You stare a bit longer at the pale expanse of skin, the way his ribs just barely stretch through the white, cock hard and very nearly leaking against his thigh. His eyes are dark and pleading.  
“Noel.” he grumbles breathlessly. “Do something, cunt”  
You smirk. The headless lust you felt at the sight of him cuffed and desperate has wavered and you’re back in control. It feels glorious. 

“What d’you want, baby boy?” you whisper. He shivers ever so slightly and pants.  
“Touch me. Need you to” You chuckle and place a sweet kiss on his bottom lip before you give him a light slap on his bruising cheekbone. He yelps.  
“Liam.” You chastise him gently before you brush a hand across his chest. His nipples are hard and aching already, dusky pink and as pretty as the rest of him. He moans gently as you roll them between your fingers, whimpering every time you pull.  
You play with his chest a little longer, till every second breath is a helpless groan and he’s twitching from overstimulation.  
“Fucking. Stings,” he mumbles it, likes he’s ashamed to give in.  
In lieu of voiced disappointment, you smack him hard across the back of his thigh, legs held bent and spread. He truly whines then, even as his cock impatiently twitches. After a few more short slaps his powdery white skin is painted a pretty pink.  
“Aren’t you pretty, all covered in red?” You dig your nails into the tender skin just to see how he thrashes away from the touch. Never subtle, is Liam.  
“Knew you loved getting hurt from the beginning.” You tell him, voice firm but just sweet enough for him to stay warm and pliant for you. “Picking fights with random blokes in dodgy toilets, that’s what gets you off, doesn’t it? Gets you hard, fucking tart.”  
Liam fixes you with an indignant glare, not dignifying it with a response. 

One last pull to his swollen left nipple and you pull away again, to give him a little breather and your breath catches in your throat. He looks so pale and delicate, all bones and paper thin skin and sharp angles. There’s still a scab on his left knee, for Christ’s sake. He’s 27 fucking years old and yet as you watch him carefully regulate his breathing you swear he’s 7, wailing about his scraped knee and begging you to make it better. “Just kiss it better, please Noely, it hurts” And of course you’d complied. 

“C’mon, you cunt”, always there to drag you back. You should probably give him more credit for preventing you drowning.  
“You’re a desperate little slag, aren’t you? Needy.”  
“Fuck off,” His reply is half-hearted but you don’t bother mentioning that.  
“My little slag. Good riddance to that bitch. You’re mine again now.” You swear you’re not a cunt but the way you talk about Patsy (and Liam, you suppose) entirely undermines any self defences. Who can blame you though? Any fucker who dares lay a finger on your baby brother doesn’t deserve your respect. That role’s reserved for you. 

“I don’t belong to anyone, twat,” it’s always sweet how Liam attempts to argue back, like he won’t be begging for you in minutes, like you’re not everything he’s ever wanted and everything he ever will. Something’s are better left unsaid.  
“Keep telling yourself that sweetheart.” You say, voice dripping in condescension as you spit on his cock and he gasps.  
“Yes, Noel, fuck.” his breathless moaning is enough and you stroke him teasingly, just enough pressure for beads of precum to leak down his cock but nowhere near enough for him to come. Leaving him wanting. 

“Fuck me, please, please, ple-,” he’s cut short as you squeeze him, your hand already sticky with his arousal and Jesus Christ, you’re loving being able to touch him like this but your cock is almost painfully hard.  
“Not yet, darling.” his sweet little whimper at the pet name makes your heart clutch in your chest and yet again you want to drop this whole game and just hold him, love him, give him what he dreams of. 

(You write so often about dreaming because you know what you and Liam wish for could never come true)

“Bet that bitch didn’t treat you like I do,”  
Liam shakes his head, hips rocking upwards in an attempt to increase the friction. You can feel your pants wet with precum and his desperation is only making it worse.  
“Bet you regret ever getting married, you stupid little slut,”  
Again, he replies with barely-there head movements, so focused on coming he’s not listening to what you’re saying. But you need him to.  
So you take your hand off him, make him lick it clean and bask in the flush of humiliation darkening his pretty cheeks.  
“Liam. Answer me.” 

You watch him swallow, skin glistening with sweat and embarrassment and the need to come. You see him glance at the clock, realising you’ve been here closing in on an hour and you see him crumble.  
“Look, Noel, I’m sorry. Honest.”  
Every ounce of your body aches with self hatred when you feel your cock twitch at his apology. You really do disgust yourself sometimes.  
“What for?” You ask, fingers flexing with the need to free your dick.  
“Y’know what.” But under your stern stare he continues. “Patsy. Fucking tonight up.”  
You want to push him, want to him to apologise for being a fucking mess and a disaster and a shit singer and a bad brother but you know that’s pushing it. So you tell him instead.  
“You’re a fucking mess, Liam. You need to buck your ideas up if you think i’m keeping you in my band when you act like that. And sing like that. Be a good fucking brother for once.” You really think you might have crushed him with that. His eyes look shiny and his bottom lip is wobbling ever so slightly. If he cries, you don’t know what you’d do. Probably apologise for what you’ve done to him, hug him so tight to your chest and then jump out the window. 

God, you don’t deserve him.

“Noely, I love you, y’know that, y’know that”. You’re worried your ribs might crush your internal organs with how small your chest suddenly seems. You don’t want him to love you. He shouldn’t love you. Not like this.  
“I’d love you a whole lot more if you made me fucking come.” And like that, he’s saved the day without realising it. Everything in you is still fixated on what he’s said, what you've said and what you are but now, he’s given you the free pass to ignore it a while. 

Undoing the cuffs feels like the heaviest weight lifted from your shoulders, as long as you keep your eyes away from the deep red marks cut into his wrists.  
“You’re gonna fuck yourself open for me,” you tell him, “then you’re going to suck my cock”.  
The whine that escapes his mouth then makes your toes curl. You watch, mouth open ever so slightly as he sucks on his fingers till they’re dripping and pushes them inside, two at once, his pretty pink lips falling open at the feeling.  
“Aren’t you tight, baby boy?” You mutter, fixated on his fingers pushing in and out of his hole.  
He nods eagerly, head falling back and eyes sliding shut as he hits his spot.  
“Stretch yourself for me some more,”

Following your orders, he pushes another finger in alongside, gasping as he’s stretched out, hips rolling as he tries to push his fingers deeper. He begs for you almost unconsciously, little moans of your name falling from his mouth every now and again and you think you could watch this forever.  
“Liam, stop.” Almost immediately his eyes fly open and his face flushes. You can’t help but smile at his well. Cuteness.  
“Hands and knees,” you demand, revelling in the blush that graces his cheeks and the little whimper at given orders. Seeing Liam obey, the man who lives his life entirely on his own rules, is possibly the hottest thing you know of. 

You move away from the bed again to look at your little brother on all fours, back arched, chest pink from endless minutes of touching, skin shining with sweat. Cock hard between his legs, an angry red you know is already hurting and his cheeks spread so you can just catch a glimpse of his hole. You massage it gently with the top of your thumb, Liam pushing back against your hand eagerly and whining so loud when you move away to situate yourself against the headboard. 

You wrap a few strands of his hair through your fingers, stroking it with the other and he smiles slightly. It’s the respite you both need, a tiny bit of caring and loving amongst all the shit you’ve somehow brought onto yourselves. You almost get carried away, even reaching down to kiss him gently before you realise why you’re here and what you’re meant to be doing. 

“Noel!” he yelps as you suddenly pull on the hair clutched in your fingers.  
“I thought I told you to suck my cock?” You mutter, half of your mind still thinking about stroking hair and sweet smiles. Liam gives you a smirk, a shimmer of his normal self, the cheeky fucking boy you’ve had to deal with for all the life you can remember. Who somehow knows when to be the submissive slut you need him to be, after years of practice, mind. Even so, maybe he is more intelligent than you give him credit for. 

You’re brought firmly back to this dull hotel room and your drunk, high baby brother desperate to make up for the night of hell he’s caused, as Liam leans down to open the fly of your jeans with his fucking teeth.  
“You cheap fucking whore.” you snort, shocked that he decided to pull a sleazy porn trick, looking much too happy with himself for it. To save anymore tacky moves, you hastily pull down your jeans and pants together, sighing contentedly as Liam begins to mouth at the head of your cock. Dripping already, you notice belatedly, as he licks along your slit, baby blues focused firmly on your own. You know he’s waiting and you’re only too happy to oblige, pushing your cock as far into his mouth as you can before the unexpected intrusion triggers his gag reflex. His eyes are already watering, even if he’s still somehow smirking. 

Trust Liam to be able to smirk with a fucking cock in his mouth. 

Both of you groan helplessly as you begin to fuck his mouth roughly, your hands digging into his scalp as you push him down again and again. Liam’s cheeks are wet with tears, chin wet with your precum as he suddenly splutters, the feeling of his throat contracting around your aching cock almost enough for you to come. When he pulls off, eyes still leaking constantly, he stares at you angrily. 

Your dick pulses as you hear how hoarse his voice is, how wrecked.  
“Fuckin’. Cunt.” Liam grumbles, hand massaging his own throat but one look down at his cock and you know he loves it just as much as you. It’s curled up against his stomach, angry red and leaking profusely, his lower tummy and thighs damp with it. It’s unbelievably hot.  
“Serves you right.” You remind him, remind yourself, God why hadn’t you just broken his nose and walked away. This is a spiralling nightmare, one you don’t know will stop and as much as the thought of how far you’re both going to let this go makes a sick arousal rear in your stomach, it terrifies you just as much. 

10 years after you first touched him and you haven’t stopped feeling guilty about it. 

“Don’t chicken out now,” he taunts, insolent little brat, gained back some of his Liamness after choking on your cock. How funny. You slap him around the face again, backhanded this time so your ring catches on the bruises already surfacing there and grazing a red path along his cheekbone. You have to try so, so, so hard not to scream at his lack of reaction.  
“You never should’ve fucked me in the first place. Doesn’t change that you did, when I was so fucking young, Noel, d’you remember? You’ve already done it so do it again. Coward.”  
Your heart is lodged in your throat, your aching cock long forgotten with the anger and shame and hatred swelling in your gut, infecting your bloodstream, blurring your eyes.  
“Only because you fucking begged me to, like the stupid little slag you are. I never - never - would have if you hadn’t. Hadn’t have offered yourself up.” It’s a poor defence, you know but you can’t handle hearing the truth from Liam’s mouth, Liam who never seems to think this is wrong, who’s never blamed you, who loves you, loves this wholeheartedly. Who’d gladly die on his knees for you, knowing he went with your love and approval and attention, the things he so desperately chases after. 

You realise a little too late that that’s what his little show on stage was about and you hate yourself all over again for not hugging him to your chest, stroking his hair, loving him. 

But once again, Liam pulls you back and you know now, that’s he’s doing it deliberately, that he’s so emotionally intelligent he can see you need him to just be Liam. Irreverent, careless, never serious. “If I’m such a stupid little slag, you should really fuck me.” And the spell is broken for the third time and you can’t help but laugh, laugh in a way you haven’t in a while. The world you and Liam live in is so surreal it’s no wonder you’ve been able to hide it. Who would believe this.

“I think you’re right,” And it’s back to business as you settle behind his arse, t-shirt discarded. Liam rummages through the mess of lighters and cigarette packets on his bedside table, empty baggies and razors, for a bottle of lube.  
“Even though you’re wet enough not to need it,” He comments playfully as he places it into the palm of your hand and you cuff him round the head for his cheek but still smile.  
“You want it?” You mutter, hands stroking the soft skin of his arse, fingers rubbing gently against his hole, wet and ready.  
“Please. I need it.” And so you push in, in one go because you know he can take it. You throb against his prostrate, brushing a hand soothingly along his back as he relaxes, breath steadying. “Please, Noel. Fuck me.” Finally, finally. You’re not gonna last long but it doesn’t matter because Liam’s pushing back against you eagerly, moaning constantly, loud as ever. Clenching around you as you rub against his chest again, kiss along his neck and shoulders, bury your nose in his hair and just breathe. 

“So good, Liam.”  
He keens in reply, body held tense with need and his long-put-off orgasm.  
“C’mon, Noel. Wanna come on your cock, nothing else. Harder.” He’s desperate, and your thrusts become erratic as he moans deeply and squeezes around you the hardest yet.  
“So tight, take me so fuckin’ well, fuck.” And somehow, the only word you can manage to spill out is baby, over and over as you come inside your baby brother, filling him up just as he likes, hips flush against his arse.  
“You cunt.” He giggles and you can’t help but chuckle too, so nice to be lighthearted when these however many hours have been nothing but sinister. You shush him and pull out, watching his hole close up, none of your cum leaking out.  
“Good boy.” you praise and his blush floods down to his neck at that. It only takes three of your fingers stroking his prostrate and two shoved in his mouth for him to come messily over himself, body shaking with the aftershocks and mouth slack with the pleasure.

You kiss him gently on each eyelid, nuzzle your face into his neck and pull him more firmly into your lap. You can feel his smile against your chest as you pull him into a tight hug, hands brushing through the length of his hair. 

“Love you.” He whispers and you swear you can feel a dampness against your chest. Your own eyes prickle ever so slightly and you sigh. “Love you too, Liam. Promise.” And Liam chokes out a sob, pressing even closer into you, shivering. 

——-  
It’s almost 3 in the morning by the time you’ve cleaned Liam up and curled up behind him on the clean side of his hotel bed. He’s been crying on and off, just silent tears and the odd swallowed wail, but you sit with him patiently, stroking through his hair and calling him baby boy like he wishes you always did. You seem like a couple you realise, as he finally seems to quieten when you wrap an arm around his waist and pull him closer, hand still buried in his mop of hair. You can’t remember the last time you looked after Liam like you just have, cared for him like you used to when Dad came thudding up the stairs, when he got into a silly fight with some other ragtag Burnage runt. You’ve missed it, you realise, even if there’s lust running through that desire to care that wasn’t there when he was a kid. 

But for every moment you want to wrap him in your arms and call him darling, there’s another where you want to slap him round the face and own him, hurt him. In that moment, you understand why Liam is so angry, all the time. 

You’re his everything but you play him like he’s nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. title from toothpaste kisses by the maccabees (way sweeter than this story actually is)  
> 2\. i know noel’s method of punishing liam is ignoring him which i imagine he 100% did after familiar to millions bc he’s said in interviews it was the worst day of his life but let’s just pretend he’d punish liam this way (this whole fic is very OOC anyway oops; i tried to write it w the sense that they’ve had sex like this before so liam knows to slip into that role rather than him genuinely being like that but even so it’s still pretty OOC)  
> 3\. i did not intend for it to get this sad and angsty so apologies for that  
> 4\. “dirty talk” noel insulting liam and calling him variations of slut  
> 5\. the bit abt the handcuffs is obviously RIDICULOUS but take it as an attempt at lighthearted humour
> 
> anyway thank you for reading lmao


End file.
